Recently...

Over the last couple of months we've (L-R):

Visited the Science Museum with best friend C
Played with Daddy
Made a Halloween pumpkin
Rearraged my cookery books
Watched bonfire night fireworks
Let Baxter outside for the first time
Dressed as a skeleton for Halloween fun at nursery
Visited the garden centre and bought a little bush to sit by the front door and tulip and daffodil bulbs for the window boxes
Played with torches in the dark
Mama visited the Cheltenham Literature Festival
Got smart Monster's Inc. winter pjs
Wore our poppies for Remembrance Day
Played lots of trains
Set up the study
Painted
Had boiled eggs and soldiers for breakfast
Built Duplo towers
Played with Baxter
Homemade macaroni cheese with broccoli
Poached eggs for Mama
Marvelled at the steam trains in the Science Museum
Bought coffee
Stanley & Wilf
Made welly boot drip trays from the pebbles we collected on holiday
Looked at the model of Stephenson's Rocket at the Science Museum
Read

Five currant buns

Five currant buns in the baker's shop,
Fat and round with sugar on the top.
Along came.................... with a penny one day,
Bought a currant bun and took it away.

Charlie has just learnt this song at nursery and he loves it. 

He was singing it all Saturday morning, so we bought cake making ingredients whilst at the supermarket and in the afternoon he helped me make some buns. We added lemon and orange to  make them extra yummy. We made some chocolate chip ones too and his verdict? "Mummy I prefer chocolate chips to currants, remember that please". Cheeky little monkey! He's still singing the song though.

How a book group helped mend my broken heart

Last night saw the final session with our current book group and it got me thinking about how, unknown to them, our meetings over the year have helped me to put myself back together.

In March, instead of attending the first official meeting of our newly formed book group, I was in hospital following a silent miscarriage. I lost my baby at 12 weeks, 6 days and the grief and heartbreak ripped me apart. I was hurting, lost, scared by advice that said the pain would never go away and wondering if I would ever learn to cope. I found myself questioning the big stuff, religion, life, death because I needed something to alleviate the pain I was feeling.

When all I wanted to do each night was cry away the grief that had been building throughout the day, I found myself stuck with the book group obligation. The group was in it's infancy and I was committed to making it work. There's something about a good book group that brings the books to life and, through podcasts, we wanted to take the essence of these discussions and make them available for all. No matter what had happened in my private life, I didn't want to back down from this commitment.

Books have always been my comfort in times of need and it was the books from the club that reached out and pulled me back. There were some I couldn't do, a surprising amount mentioned miscarriage, and once that happened I wouldn't read further (In the Kingdom of Men, Where'd you go Bernadette, Norwegian by Night). But for the rest talking about the books was a way to put my grief aside. When you've read the same book as someone else the conversation is easy and when it's a whole group of like-minded book lovers, the conversation is endless.

The time spent reading the books was time spent not crying or endlessly daydreaming about what might have been and I learnt from the characters. Hattie, who lost her baby twins to pneumonia and went on to have 9 more to try and fill the gap but never really succeeded, Harry from May We Be Forgiven who stumbled through life doing crazy things but captivating the reader anyway and most of all Sally and Larry and Charity and Sid, the two central couples in Crossing to Safety, a novel which shows a full lifetimes of ups and downs and celebrates the small things.

So my fragile heart became heavy when we said our goodbyes particularly as this group of women (and one man) will never quite know just how much emotional strength I took from our meetings. Next week we meet our new group of readers and I am seriously looking forward to the adventures we will discover together within the pages of some really good books.

A rainy weekend

This weekend the three of us stayed at home, the weather has turned cold and it's been tipping down with rain. We had plenty of fun though, our weekend was mainly about a boy and his cat and yummy homemade meals, something like this:

Painting Thomas posters, he was given these for his birthday and we found them when we raided the craft box for rainy day inspiration.

Brio trains and Duplo, his bedroom has turned into a railway line, with a big station/farm in the middle.

Cheesy pasta bake. I also made tomato soup, leak and potato soup and beef stew this weekend! The boy is coming on strides with better eating, and ate 5 pieces of carrot as well as most of his tomato soup and pasta.

Playing with Baxter. Our little cat follows us around from room to room and loves to play with the boy. There was also plenty of chasing up and down the house with C after B or B after C and the toy mouse.

We also, went food shopping, scooted in the park, Daddy and C scrapbooked whilst I tidied up our junk room and watched a lot of films - Tinkerbell, Lady & the Tramp and Pirates in Adventures with Scientists.

Hooray for quiet family weekends.

Who's this big boy and where's my baby gone?

The boy is exactly that, with the house move the last fleeting glimses of baby and early toddlerhood are behind us and I am the mother of a boy.

 

He no longer needs to be coddled, he loves to be with me but I have to ask if I want a hug. He won't happily let me make the decisions - he knows what programmes he wants to watch (Busy Town and Dora, Thomas and Peppa), which clothes he wants to wear (t-shirts not jumpers, shorts not trousers) and which books he wants to be read to from (Haunted House not Mog). He has always put up a fight about eating but is now open to trying more ("I actually like carrots Mummy") and can be reasoned with.

 

He loves the kitten ("Baxter is my pet Mummy") and is slowly learning how to be kind and play nicely with him ("no you do not kick the cat because he scratched you", "yes he'll purr if he's happy with you"). We threaten to give Baxter away if he hurts him and that is enough to get him to stop pulling him out from under the chair or chasing after him like a screaming banshee. And that little cat loves Charlie, he follows him around the house and rolls on his tummy for a tickle from the boy.

 

His ability to learn is amazing, his memory is good and I trust he's telling the truth when I ask him how many reward jelly beans he's owed or what he did at nursery. He can count to 20 and sing the alphabet. Last weekend we got the paints out and he was fascinated by mixing to make a new colour. He produced a muddy purple but loved that when we added white it became a pretty lilac.

 

Trains is still the governing force in his little life. We collect Thomas Take n Go, and although he has lots of other toys, it is really only these he now plays with. Thomas goes to bed with him and waits on the table for him whilst he's at nursery. He has four identical Thomas trains but knows if you try and fob him off with one of the others, I don't know how he knew when they were all brand new but his special Thomas is now missing an eyebrow and has less coal in his painted on tender where the constant holding has rubbed them away.

 

He is going through a 'terrible three' stage where everything is something to be negotiated with and 'no' is his favourite word, but complete and utter meltdowns are rare and he still mainly does what we ask.

 

He's scared of the dark and of 'monsters', we've watered down Fabreeze to make monster spray which is now duly sprayed around his room (and ours) at bedtime and have got a bedside table and Thomas nightlight (which turns into a torch), but it is rare we get through a whole night without him waking up scared in the early hours, or waking up early and coming into bed with us. This is one phase I hope he gets through pretty soon!

 

The red scooter C got for Christmas has finally come into it's own. He uses it constantly and now goes fast enough to wear knee, elbow and wrist pads. Today we went 'extreme toddler running' which was fun, I took Charlie on the scooter when I went for a run, and it was brilliant. He scoots at a fast jog pace and when he gets tired I pull him along on the scooter lead. We ran round the lake in the local park and got lots of comments and smiles from the dog walkers.

 

He talks about the future and makes plans involving his friends and cousin and grandparents. He is compiling a birthday list for May! not realising that Christmas is sooner. He knows our routine inside out and is constantly trying to negotiate not having to go in the shopping trolley hours before we go to the supermarket.

 

So three is a trying age but we love it anyway!

 

 

Isabel

Yesterday we went to see Isabel, our new niece and Charlie's new cousin. She was just one week old and very tiny (6lbs,11oz at birth).

Charlie was a little out of sorts but loved seeing the new baby. He's not been around many babies so was ever so curious, he kissed her head and smelt that new baby smell, he asked lots of questions particularly about breastfeeding, including "why is she licking her Mummy's tummy?" which had us in giggles.

We gave our presents and had cuddles with the baby. Tom was a doting uncle and little I had a big long sleep on him. C played with his trains and on the Kindle and helped Uncle S take the compost out (a treat, he loves doing this!), but kept coming back to see the baby.

The new Mummy and Daddy were not too tired having had 7 hours sleep the previous night and having N's Mum there to help out for a few days.

I'd made a lasagne for lunch (this brilliant cheats version from Waitrose (with added mushrooms)) and we had apple pie and custard for pudding. After lunch we went for a walk to the local play park. C burnt off some of his toddler energy on a big yellow slide, which he loved and then he was incredibly happy to see Granny and Grandad who called in on their way home from Norfolk to see both their grandchildren together!

So a lovely day meeting the newest member of the family.

Today

20.09.13 - Today is the day I've been dreading, it would have been my due date for the baby I lost in March. I had hoped by now I would be pregnant again, but that's not happened and so there is nothing to soften the blow.

 

Miscarriage does not get any easier with time, in my experience it has only gotten harder. It's not any easier to hide my hurt and although sometimes I can go a whole day without thinking of the baby I lost, that broken empty feeling is never too far away.

 

I count the passing months by all the special dates that are missed. It's a blessing to have already had one successful pregnancy but also a curse that I know what should be happening when. When each scan should have been, when we should have been decorating the nursery and buying those necessities and when my maternity leave should have started.

 

I count the passing months in announcements, since it happened amongst my friends four babies have been born and six pregnancies have been announced, each time this news, which under any previous circumstance would have made me so happy, has been a physical blow to my very core. No matter how much my head tells my heart to be reasonable the intense jealousy I feel is overwhelming, here are ten lives which will be lived whilst the life I had within me for 12 short weeks will not.

 

I count the passing months with an ever increasing amount of ovulation and pregnancy tests caught in a cycle of hope and despair.

 

September has been very hard, it started badly with the pains in my lower back making me walk just like the pregnant woman I should have been whilst the pain meds made me groggy and I've found it harder and harder to keep my feelings in check as today's date drew nearer. But forcing myself to spend time sorting through these feeling has helped. I've read the Miscarriage Association and Saying Goodbye sites back to front, I've re-read all the posts I've written about what happened and I've decided that today is the day I need to put everything to rest, to post the posts and the weekly stats I started when I first discovered I was pregnant and to continue to look to the future. So here they are:

20.01.13 - Two little pink lines

I write this knowing I can't post it for 12 weeks, but I want to record my exact emotions and thoughts on this, the 20th January 2013, the day those two little lines showed up announcing the presence of baby number two.

We started trying a while ago and I was beginning to worry (quite a lot) that something was wrong. in fact we took a break over December and were waiting for my period so I could work out ovulation dates to start again. In a foolish way I was actually annoyed with my body for being 'late' and delaying us from trying. I was pretty certain I wasn't but Tom joked that maybe I was and that gave me the nudge to buy a test.

It's been snowing for the last 3 days, the car was snowed in so I took a solo bus trip to Sainsburys to pick up some essentials. Pregnancy tests are kept behind the chemist counter and I almost didn't get one as the queue was long. Back at home I made spaghetti for lunch, had a netmum collect C's learn n groove (yes we gave it away for free) and put the boy down for his nap. I then took the test. Almost instantly (no waiting 5 mins for me) two pink lines appeared and I couldn't stop smiling. I told T immediately and for the next couple of hours whilst C slept I allowed my thoughts to fully focus on all things baby. I'm so excited about this little bundle I can't wait for the next eight months to whizz by. 

On a frivolous note the test I took for C showed two blue lines, this little blimp's lines are pink...

 

 

A very fine uncle

My Great Uncle Gordon died yesterday, he was elderly and it happened suddenly. This post is dedicated to him; I wanted to share the memories I have of this kind, jovial man.

Gordon was my Gran's younger brother, she had an older sister too, Betty. Gran grew up in Cheshire and moved south after she was married settling in West Sussex where my Mum and Aunty Pam lived for most of their childhoods. Gordon and Betty stayed up in Cheshire and as children Mum and Pam would tell us stories of wonderful family get togethers of aunts and uncles and cousins. Because these three siblings didn't see each other very often, when they got together the sense of fun they all shared made for some wonderful meet ups.

We didn't see our Cheshire relatives very regularly (there is also my Great Aunty Jean, my Gran's sister-in-law and of course the rest of Jean, Gordon and Betty's families) but I do remember staying up there for big events, a few weddings when I was very little and my Gran's 60th, where my cousins and I spent most of the night fascinated by the glass washer and happily collected everyone's empties to wash and shine.

It was when I was about 14 that I got to know Gordon better, by then his wife, Audrey, had passed away and he and my Aunty Jean (who were friends though not actually related: he was my Gran's brother and she was my Grandad's sister) started what became an almost annual event of coming to stay with us in Wiltshire for a week in the summer holidays. Those weeks were something to look forward to, we would take Gordon and Jean for days out to the seaside, or local places of natural beauty - hills and woods etc. - for pub lunches in pretty rural villages and to visit my Aunty Pam and her family. And there were also days spent at home, picking fruit in the garden, playing scrabble and walking the dog. Gordon would bring Flossie, his one-eyed Sheltie (Shetland Sheepdog) a lovely tempered little thing, who terrified our cats but made everyone else smile, particularly Jean who loved spoiling her. Here are some of my favourite memories from those weeks:

- Gordon's pipe. The smell of pipe smoke was irrefutably his. He smoked outside during his stays in our non-smoking household, but, for me, the smell of tobacco gave him an exotic air. He'd wander in the garden, particularly in the summer evenings having a quiet smoke and if I were to join him he would point out some little detail he'd been watching, birds or clouds, or talk about something from the day.

- Gordon's accent. My mum inherited her northern A's from her parents, I inherited mine from her, but growing up in the south tempered this somewhat, at secondary school I tried to change to southern A's with mixed success (my brother did it better) and Charlie has inherited some northern A's from me, which Tom points out quite regularly. So having this booming voiced, happy, jovial uncle arrive and fill the house with his quite brilliant northern accent helped show the teenage me that there was nothing wrong with having northern A's (check out the film below, where after just a few days with them, I'm already mimicking that accent!). He also had some sayings I'd never heard before, a family favourite was 'What a palaver' attributed to him saying it when things went wrong i.e. one time we had a whole episode of chasing an escaped duck and her ducklings and after we'd caught them we found out they were actually wild. My brother used the 'What a palaver' saying (spoken in Gordon's accent) to very good effect!

- Gordon's car. In the summer when I was 17 my driving test fell in the week that Gordon and Jean came to stay. I was having to take the test in a car different to my normal instructor's one and it was exactly the same as Gordon's. He let me sit in his and practise before the test. This turned out to be a waste of time as the test was voided (the replacement car broke down) but it was good of him to let me practise anyway. We had lunch in a particularly lovely pub that day and both he and Jean gave big commiserations and helped cheer me up.

- Flossie dog. Flossie was quite elderly when they first started visiting and only had one eye, which made her a bit snappy if you came up suddenly on her blind side. But she was ever so friendly, well trained and adored my uncle. We would take her to a local dog groomer for a wash and trim and I remember feeling mortified because I accidently hit the car boot onto Gordon's head one time when we went to pick her up - he made a big joke of it afterwards. Jean once brought back a half eaten ham hock for Flossie from one of our pub lunches.

- His memories. Gordon once told us about the war and how his Dad kept open containers of petrol in their cellar and also about having to use whisky to clear the car windscreen when driving in a snowstorm.

So finally here's a film. I took this with my first digital camera in 2002, I was 21 and home from uni for the summer. The camera I had bought with some of the inheritance left to me from my Gran, who died in 2001, and I loved it. By today's standards the film is of poor quality and the camera would only shoot 80 seconds at a time. It shows Jean and Mum and Gordon at a canal side pub, my filming is atrocious but I love it anyway as it's one of just two films I have from those holidays.

Gordon and Dad, August 2002

The changing of seasons

Summer here has fallen quickly and suddenly into autumn. The warmth replaced with a chill at the beginning and end of the day. For the first time we've had the heating on for that first hour when 5am starts are made worse by the cold.

My walk home from book club last night was a glorious mix of summer and autumn. The sky was navy blue with a chill so dense you could have cut it. The air was seasoned with wood smoke from someone's cosy fireplace yet the heady scent of summer's roses grasped at me as I walked passed the neighbourhood gardens. I was pleased I'd worn my winter coat and the faint clip of my boots was satisfying after months of flip flop use.

This morning was another story, the house was freezing but when I left for the 6am train the weather was wet and mild and so fir today the promise of a crisp autumn has retreated.

The Pickerupper

5 weeks ago I hurt my back. Real bad. No one thing did it but the doctor said I'd pulled a lower muscle, that I shouldn't bend over and prescribed a strong painkiller for 3 weeks and 7 nights of tranquilizers, boy did those knock me out and made me groggy all day.

Anyway the doctor was right, 3 weeks later I was back to normal. And the biggest thing I've learned is that I am The General Pickerupper. Over that time I've watched my house gain a sea of debris on the floor which ebbs and flows as my son and husband pick them up or, in the case of the latter, move them to another patch of carpet. There are toys (of course, I live with a three year old), but without me doing a daily whiz round the toys stay where they were dropped.

There's more than toys though, there's a piece of white thread that's been shouting out from the hall carpet. There's the bits around the waste paper bins, the dry cat food not in the cat bowl, tiny pieces of clear plastic that you can only spot in a certain light, the list goes on.

Then there's the things I couldn't do for my son. Little man has had to walk all the way to nursery instead of being carried, getting him in and out the bath or on the toilet was a challenge and picking him up for a hug was a no go. He has been really good about it, asking me about my back and helping me out as parts of our daily routine were tweaked.

So now my back is fine, as if it never happened, the house is clean and everything is in it's place but it's  good to remember these things because although it doesn't seem too big now, at the time it was massive.